Thus Spake Zarathustra — Friedrich Nietzsche

Thus Spake Zarathustra

Friedrich Nietzsche · الترخيص: Public domain · المصدر

• --The winter-sky, the silent winter-sky, which often stifleth even its sun! ¶2178
• Did I perhaps learn from it the long clear silence? Or did it learn it from me? Or hath each of us devised it himself? ¶2179
• Of all good things the origin is a thousandfold,--all good roguish things spring into existence for joy: how could they always do so--for once only! ¶2180
• A good roguish thing is also the long silence, and to look, like the winter-sky, out of a clear, round-eyed countenance:-- ¶2181
• --Like it to stifle one's sun, and one's inflexible solar will: verily, this art and this winter-roguishness have I learnt WELL! ¶2182
• My best-loved wickedness and art is it, that my silence hath learned not to betray itself by silence. ¶2183
• Clattering with diction and dice, I outwit the solemn assistants: all those stern watchers, shall my will and purpose elude. ¶2184
• That no one might see down into my depth and into mine ultimate will--for that purpose did I devise the long clear silence. ¶2185
• Many a shrewd one did I find: he veiled his countenance and made his water muddy, that no one might see therethrough and thereunder. ¶2186
• But precisely unto him came the shrewder distrusters and nut-crackers: precisely from him did they fish his best-concealed fish! ¶2187
• But the clear, the honest, the transparent--these are for me the wisest silent ones: in them, so PROFOUND is the depth that even the clearest water doth not--betray it.-- ¶2188
• Thou snow-bearded, silent, winter-sky, thou round-eyed whitehead above me! Oh, thou heavenly simile of my soul and its wantonness! ¶2189
• And MUST I not conceal myself like one who hath swallowed gold--lest my soul should be ripped up? ¶2190
• MUST I not wear stilts, that they may OVERLOOK my long legs--all those enviers and injurers around me? ¶2191
• Those dingy, fire-warmed, used-up, green-tinted, ill-natured souls--how COULD their envy endure my happiness! ¶2192
• Thus do I show them only the ice and winter of my peaks--and NOT that my mountain windeth all the solar girdles around it! ¶2193
• They hear only the whistling of my winter-storms: and know NOT that I also travel over warm seas, like longing, heavy, hot south-winds. ¶2194
• They commiserate also my accidents and chances:--but MY word saith: "Suffer the chance to come unto me: innocent is it as a little child!" ¶2195
• How COULD they endure my happiness, if I did not put around it accidents, and winter-privations, and bear-skin caps, and enmantling snowflakes! ¶2196
• --If I did not myself commiserate their PITY, the pity of those enviers and injurers! ¶2197
• --If I did not myself sigh before them, and chatter with cold, and patiently LET myself be swathed in their pity! ¶2198
• This is the wise waggish-will and good-will of my soul, that it CONCEALETH NOT its winters and glacial storms; it concealeth not its chilblains either. ¶2199
• To one man, lonesomeness is the flight of the sick one; to another, it is the flight FROM the sick ones. ¶2200
• Let them HEAR me chattering and sighing with winter-cold, all those poor squinting knaves around me! With such sighing and chattering do I flee from their heated rooms. ¶2201
• Let them sympathise with me and sigh with me on account of my chilblains: "At the ice of knowledge will he yet FREEZE TO DEATH!"--so they mourn. ¶2202
• Meanwhile do I run with warm feet hither and thither on mine olive-mount: in the sunny corner of mine olive-mount do I sing, and mock at all pity.-- ¶2203
• O Zarathustra, here is the great city: here hast thou nothing to seek and everything to lose. ¶2207
• Why wouldst thou wade through this mire? Have pity upon thy foot! Spit rather on the gate of the city, and--turn back! ¶2208
• Here is the hell for anchorites' thoughts: here are great thoughts seethed alive and boiled small. ¶2209
• Here do all great sentiments decay: here may only rattle-boned sensations rattle! ¶2210
• Smellest thou not already the shambles and cookshops of the spirit? Steameth not this city with the fumes of slaughtered spirit? ¶2211
• Seest thou not the souls hanging like limp dirty rags?--And they make newspapers also out of these rags! ¶2212
• Hearest thou not how spirit hath here become a verbal game? Loathsome verbal swill doth it vomit forth!--And they make newspapers also out of this verbal swill. ¶2213
• They hound one another, and know not whither! They inflame one another, and know not why! They tinkle with their pinchbeck, they jingle with their gold. ¶2214
• They are cold, and seek warmth from distilled waters: they are inflamed, and seek coolness from frozen spirits; they are all sick and sore through public opinion. ¶2215
• All lusts and vices are here at home; but here there are also the virtuous; there is much appointable appointed virtue:-- ¶2216
• Much appointable virtue with scribe-fingers, and hardy sitting-flesh and waiting-flesh, blessed with small breast-stars, and padded, haunchless daughters. ¶2217
• There is here also much piety, and much faithful spittle-licking and spittle-backing, before the God of Hosts. ¶2218
• "From on high," drippeth the star, and the gracious spittle; for the high, longeth every starless bosom. ¶2219
• The moon hath its court, and the court hath its moon-calves: unto all, however, that cometh from the court do the mendicant people pray, and all appointable mendicant virtues. ¶2220

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